Oils stain her hands as she puts
The brush into the jar. With furrowed
Brow, she studies the painting.
Dismay fills her face as her eyes
Stare at the canvas, wondering why
The sky she paints seems so very angry.
It all started out with vibrant hues of
Oranges and reds, yet the darkness
Seemingly settled upon her canvas
Sometime during her endeavour.

She wonders if this is just part of her,
As she sits there, wishing there was more
For her to paint. A blank canvas sits
Off to the side, waiting to be filled with
Colour, yet she can only contemplate what
Might fill that one. Would it be light? Or
Would this canvas, just like the last one,
End up full of angry skies again.

Perhaps more colours are needed to paint
A more cheerful painting. Remember the
Blue first! She yells at herself as she
Cleans the brushes. Art is priceless and
Money should not matter when it comes
To acquiring the needed supplies. Yet,
Frugalness urges her to wait.

She wants to paint! Paint happiness upon
The blank canvas. Maybe, if only she could
Start with what she has, not worry about
Finishing in one night this painting. But her
Soul needs nourishment, and alone with
Her paints, or perhaps a pen and paper even,
Can she bleed herself into pictures that
Might soothe her soul.

The artist bleeds with paints and words,
In failed attempts to express the darkness
That dwells within and bring forth the
Light she knows lives deep within her.

(c) 2003 A Riddle